


When Paths Diverge

by Pizza_Mia



Category: Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Time Travel, Time Travel Fix-It
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-06
Updated: 2021-03-06
Packaged: 2021-03-12 07:48:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,007
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29881380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pizza_Mia/pseuds/Pizza_Mia
Summary: Obi-Wan dies on the Death Star. And then lives again. He’s not even supposed to be here anymore.Rather unfortunately, it appears that what he perceived to be the end to his story was merely the beginning.
Relationships: Obi-Wan Kenobi & Anakin Skywalker, Qui-Gon Jinn & Obi-Wan Kenobi
Comments: 6
Kudos: 56





	When Paths Diverge

**Author's Note:**

> When death finally comes for him, it's does so in a flash of red speeding towards his face. There's only a burst of white-hot pain to accompany that fatal blow, before darkness consumes him.
> 
> He lets it.

  
**Prologue :**

When the moment comes, it is twenty years too late. 

It's a sore subject, and one that Obi-Wan has avoided thinking about for so long, never even daring to let himself think of Vader after the Jedi Temple was destroyed. It's an old wound, but one that has never learnt to heal. The sense of betrayal and anguish that came on the heels of the realisation that it had been Anakin who had let the march against the Temple is as fresh and raw as ever, and he has a sinking feeling that it will stay with him for as long he drew breath into his lungs. 

Perhaps, even long after that as well. 

Those images from the recordings are ones that will haunt him for the rest of his life. Every pixel is seared into the back of his eyelids, and he is still haunted by his own inaction and blindness that led to the death of the only family that he has ever known. Guilt gnaws away at him, and he lets it, both craving and fearing the punishment that he is sure that he deserved.

Inhaling deeply, he lets the air filter through his lungs, ignoring the familiar ache in his heart that is nestled at the centre of his body. His joints ache from the years spent in the desert, his muscles stiff and old. He supposed that the perpetual lack of sufficient food and water has taken its toll on him as well. 

When he turns to finally face Vader, spurred on by gut instinct and the presence of the dark, abyss-like vortex in the Force that he can feel in the general vicinity of the other end of the hallway, it's surprisingly less harder than he had imagined it to be. 

Numbness is his primary reaction, because deep down, a part of him had always known that this confrontation would eventually happen. 

His hand tightens against the hilt of his lightsaber. The weight of it in his hand is heavy, pulled down by years of history. The ridges of the metallic hilt carve lines along his palm, and he imagines that if he applies any more pressure, he might end up splitting open his own skin by accident. The skin on his hand is especially fragile, worn down and weathered by toil and injury.

Vader is a menacing figure, still and unyielding. He is more machine than man, more monster than human and Obi-Wan doesn't know whether to weep or to laugh because the truth is, he can no longer recognise the Anakin that he had so dearly loved behind that suit. It's like staring at a stranger, and a part of Obi-Wan prefers it that way.

He can't deny that Vader is certainly a strikingly terrifying creation of Palpatine's. Vader radiates menace into the atmosphere, and Obi-Wan can certainly see how that vaguely disturbing breathing patterns can strike fear into the hearts of anyone who had dared to cross the Empire's path. The air is much colder here too, although Obi-Wan cannot tell whether it is merely the surroundings or perhaps it is the after-effect of directly feeling the Sith's twisted and warped Force presence, especially in such proximity as this.

Despite his best efforts, he cannot resist the temptation of reaching out. It's instinct, an old habit of his that he has never been able to fully suppress. 

The planet-sized mega weapon that he currently stands on contains at least several Force-sensitives, but whether they themselves realise it or not is another story entirely. Obi-Wan's reaches towards the brightest one, Anakin's son, _Luke_ , and finds that the boy is close to his sister's location. The smuggler is near them as well. That meant that the small group were somewhere around the detention cells.

Obi-Wan would have to buy them enough time to escape. 

"Darth Vader," he says quietly, almost resentfully. It is indeed a struggle to keep his face blank and his voice steady. An abrupt surge of emotion catches him off his guard, and he has to clamp down harshly on his mental shields in order to ensure that none of it leaked out. He couldn't afford to be further taunted by the results of his failure. 

Maintaining a controlled composure would do him the most good at the moment, but despite keeping a cold exterior, he can only watch desperately as the raw emotion roils furiously inside his body. At least it is a prison of his own choosing.

Rage is one of them. Hatred is something that he has never had cause to struggle with in the past because duty had come first. Back then, it had been more the ideal than the individual that he found himself facing against. But now? The bitterness that had sprouted and took hold during his long years of exile came rushing back with a vengeance, and with it, Obi-Wan found a white-hot fury directed towards that one person that he had let through his iron-clad shields and would have given everything for had it been demanded of him.

Instead, Anakin had everything taken from him.

Obi-Wan thinks that he might hate Anakin. He hates himself too, hates that he knows that he would forgive Anakin in a heartbeat despite the fact that it was his former padawan that had killed a majority of Obi-Wan's own family. 

Pain and sorrow are there as well, each one adding more weights to the chains that already exist around his neck and wrists. It is a reminder, an emotional scar that will never close up because even the smallest movement jostles and agitates the inflamed wound. The grief pulls and pulls until it's a pitiful struggle to even keep going. 

He's lost everything.

His home and family were far beyond his grasp now, taken from him and he knows that he can never get them back. 

He has literally lost _everything_.

He had nothing to lose now, he suddenly realises with a chill.

There is no life for him to look forward to, nor is there anyone left no one waiting for him. As a result, the idea of eternal rest becomes much more appealing, especially in terms of the situation that he finds himself in right now. He longs for the quiet, to finally close his eyes and be released from the entrapment of all his past mistakes and the blood that stains his hands. He wants to let go entirely, to demolish this layer of pretence that he has hidden himself behind for far too long. 

He wants to be free, something that he knows for a fact that only death can grant him, but despite the tantalising reach of the promise of peace so close to his grasp, he still finds himself hesitating.

There's still Luke to watch after, wasn't there? Luke and Leia, Anakin's and Padme's children, and the two things that he is certain that he loves wholly and unconditionally in this unforgiving universe. 

The idea of voluntarily leaving Luke all alone in the cold abyss of space, isolated and far away from home is one that makes him feel sick. He would never be able to forgive himself if Luke were to die any time soon. He _needed_ the boy to live. It felt incredibly selfish of him to give up, in a way, all the while leaving Luke to fend entirely for himself. 

_Not alone_ , the Force whispers softly. 

Smears of light and colour flashed across his mind. Safety and warmth prickled at the edge of his senses, reassuring him of a future that he would never see but would surely come to pass. Familial bonds resonating with each other, build upon a network of precious trust and unselfish love. And tucked in between it all was the scene of a forest, and at the very centre were the figures of that smuggler, Luke and Leia, all older but _alive_ and happy.

 _Oh_. 

His chest flutters with a foreign sensation, and it takes him an embarrassingly long moment to identify the feeling as _hope_. One last hope for the galaxy. Then, he knows in that moment that, truly, it is something worth sacrificing his own life for, even more so if that's what it takes to let Padme's children live to see another day.

His life for Luke's and Leia's. A fair trade. 

And for that, his decision is an easy one

  
-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

  
There is a snap-hiss, and his lightsaber ignites in his hand. The blue light casts shadows across his face, and it highlights the steely determination blazing fiercely in his blue-grey eyes. The realisation that surely, this would be his last battle does not deter him from taking a stand, nor does it stop him from taking a light, daring step forward.

 _Come and get me_ , he thinks grimly.

As customary to that of the his favoured lightsaber fighting form, Obi-Wan falls back on the opening form of Soresu. His grip on the lightsaber reverses, so that the blade is held backwards in a one-handed hope. With a light sweeping motion that still flows gracefully despite his old age, Obi-Wan makes adjustment to his position so that his blade-hand is angled is parallel to that of his body.

The other palm is wide open and deliberate as he baits Vader into attacking.

With the advantage of having known Vader earlier in life, Obi-Wan knows almost precisely when the silent challenge is accepted. He hears the slight hitch through the other's voice modulator, and sees the way that the Sith's posture stiffens even further. There a pause, broken intermittently only by Vader's harsh breaths, before the quiet in the centre of the storm becomes too much for both of them.

"I've been waiting for you, Obi-Wan."

And with that words, and despite his best efforts, the back of Obi-Wan's eyes begins to burn with unshed tears. Hearing his name spoken aloud brought back a rush of memories that were better off left forgotten. His own breathing became stilted as the words reverberated with invisible echoes of the ghosts of his past, the ones that he had loved but were now dead and gone.

_No, Anakin. Obi-Wan Kenobi died with you on Mustafar. Don't you get it? We both died together, in a single stroke that left you maimed and me destroyed._

"We meet again, at last. The circle is now complete." The words sounded forced, as if Vader were reading from a recycled script and not one of his own making. 

But Obi-Wan didn't have time to ponder on that odd deflection, because Vader moves quickly after that. In a single movement that almost too fast for his eyes to track, the Sith strides forward. It takes all of Obi-Wan's willpower to gather himself, and just in time to block Vader's crimson lightsaber blade with his own.

The tight proximity of the hallway forces the two combatants closer together. 

The abrupt weight of the red blade bearing down on him nearly dislocates Obi-Wan's wrist in the process. With a sharp twist, he angles the Sith's lightsaber away from his face, taking that opportunity to weave through the edge of Vader's defences. He quickly parries with a counter strike.

Focusing on any signs of weakness is a difficult task. He and Vader are evenly matched, even more so in their youth, but now age and injury has significantly impeded the chance for a high-paced duel. Vader's lightsaber style has changed as well. Obi-Wan almost cannot reconcile the controlled, calculated offensive strikes with the same opponent that he had fought against on the fiery planet of Mustafar.

His own actions are far more simpler. While Vader uses brute force, as Anakin had once preferred as well, Obi-Wan's own movements are clean and simple. He wields the lightsaber like an extension of his own body, and each move is clean and simple, so as to maximise the effectiveness and conserve strength.

Muscle memory guides him through each step, and he listens, opening himself to the Force as much as he dares. A warning nudge here. A guided strike there. 

Vader takes the time to monologue. Obi-Wan isn't really listening, only half-heartedly following the conversation at best. Every word out of the Sith's vocoder makes his stomach churn, and he can't afford the distraction to get to him especially while engaging Vader in the duel. 

But they both know how this is going to end.

"When I left you, I was but the learner," Vader intones, his voice dark and rough. "Now I am the master."

Obi-Wan wants to laugh bitterly at that. 

A master of what, Anakin? 

_Suffering? Death and destruction?_

"Only a master of evil, Darth." Obi-Wan responds sharply, swiftly ducking out of the range of Vader's attacks as he continued to deflect each blow of Vader's crimson blade.

It was ironic. They really were each other's worst failures after all.

For Obi-Wan, it had been his inability to kill the one that he had thought of as a brother and had loved. His own weakness had led to the death of thousands across the galaxy. This was something that he bitterly regretted every day. But even if he had a chance to redo that his actions back on Mustafar, a part of him still persisted in doubting whether he could follow up and deliver that killing blow.

But for Vader, the stakes in this deadly game of tag was much more personal. To him, Obi-Wan has been the one that had gotten away. The one that the Chosen One, even at the _height_ of his power, could not even defeat. 

Mutually assured destruction. Their bond had been one that had been birthed in fire and blood, and so shall it be broken in fire and blood once again. The beginning had been forged through blood of Obi-Wan's own master, and then the pyre burning bright, ash flaking through the air and thick smoke rising into the cool, dark Naboo night.

Anakin had incited the end, as he had everything back then. The blood of thousands wrought in the silent night, in a betrayal that none of them had ever expected, all the while the fires of Mustafar had burnt brightly ferociously, and hence, the pact of fire-and-blood had been broken, a horribly final end that had been cemented with the thick flakes of ash taking root in both of their lungs. 

Even now, their senses were both so incredibly attuned to each other, that predicting the other's move was child's play. Two broken halves of a whole struggling to finally vanquish the other, not realising that the only purpose that it would serve would be to destroy a part of themselves.

Surprising even himself, Obi-Wan lunges forward in a flurry of harsh strikes. The realisation that he would have to do something unexpected in order to gain the upper hand spurred on this change in motion. To a certain extent, his plan worked. The abrupt change in the rhythm of the fight throws Vader off his balance, and as intended, Obi-Wan uses that fully, pressing his advantage hard against the faltering strokes of the Sith Lord.

"You are weak, old man," Vader scoffs, even as he continued to allow himself to be backed into the main hanger of the Imperial base. 

The only downside of being on the offensive, was that each action was incredibly taxing. Even now, Obi-Wan could feel his muscles strain in protest even as he continued to use up the last reserves of his strength to gain just enough time to complete the task that he set out intending to do. Already, something inside him had known that as soon as he had stepped into the Imperial stronghold, he wouldn't be ever getting out.

He takes a quick breath. 

Almost there. 

His gaze wanders and then catches on the sight of Luke, Leia and the smuggler making a hasty exit onto the ramp of the ship. For a moment, he was struck by the sheer resemblance of Leia to her late mother. She looked so incredibly similar to Padme at that moment.

Obi-Wan spared a brief moment of grief over his friend. For Padme, and for Bail. Breha, and all those millions of people who hadn't deserved to die all. A surge of fury and anguish overtakes him at that moment. Momentarily, it fuels the increased strength behind his every attack, although those burst of energy start wearing off quickly enough.

It doesn't matter, because his job is almost done. 

Obi-Wan knows precisely when Luke runs onto the ramp of the Millennium Falcon and straight into the arms of his growing family. He catches a glimpse of it at the corner of his eye, and as soon as he does, the Force appears to give a sigh of relief around him. It releases the death-grip that it had previously held on him, and Obi-Wan's chest unclenches as something inside him loosens in the first time for over a decade.

It's over now. He's _done_. 

A serene smile creeps over his features, a sight that only serves to infuriate Vader even further. His stance drops, and he reverts back to a simple Shii-Cho. It is a sharp reminder, one of simpler days, and that of the things that Vader had never managed to truly destroy.

Technically, that certain move means surrender, but given the circumstance, it's not accurate when phrased like that.

Because it's also much more than that. It's _acceptance_. 

"Goodbye, Anakin," he says simply, relaxing his own defensive guard completely. The lightsaber deactivates in his hand, until he is just holding the hilt of it. The familiar weight acts as a grounding force, and gratefully, he latches onto that last reminder of the person that he had once been, and would always be. 

When death finally comes for him, it's does so in a flash of red speeding towards his face. There's only a burst of white-hot pain to accompany that fatal blow, before darkness consumes him.

He lets it.

**Author's Note:**

> So... I’m still alive? *Weakly throws confetti and then hides* 
> 
> Just a reminder, I will not be giving up on any of my other stories. It’s a tad bit slow, but I’m working on it. Got to stick with ‘em till the end and all that.
> 
> I read and treasure every single comment. Thank y’all so much. Apologies if I seem sort of absent at times. It’s unfortunately one of the downsides to being a sad little hermit with severe people-allergies.


End file.
